


Dreamy

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returned and so did normality. At least to Sherlock. Though he had always been somewhat of a dream to John, impossibly great and occasionally good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamy

“John…” He exhales, leaning against the doorframe.  
“Oh, Sherlock, you’re back” John says walking from the kitchen, “Well, I haven’t touched any of your things. They’re all still in your room, and, against my better judgment, all over this bloody flat”.  
“John, I’m sorry”  
“Ok, Sherlock, I know”, he wanders back to the kettle. “Would you like some tea?”  
Had the room not been laced with a thick coat of tension through the duration of this conversation, Sherlock would have laughed at the normalcy.  
“Thank you”, he said as John placed a steaming mug on the table. John raised his eyebrows at that.  
“You’ve gotten nicer. It doesn’t suit you.” He quipped, and Sherlock finally let out the building chuckle.  
“You haven’t changed at all, John”, he returns fondly.  
At an almost inaudible whisper that was definitely meant for himself, John muttered “How could I”.

\--- 

Falling into their old life had been far easier than anticipated, Sherlock thought. Granted, some things had to be sacrificed- John clearly wasn’t ready to join him on cases yet, he maintained his job at the local clinic and spent much of his time annoyingly unavailable. There, too, were periods where John was enormously tired, and many of his nights were spent sitting in the armchair and doing very little. They rarely talked about anything, but it was quite comforting.

\---

“I think I loved you” Says John one day  
“Oh…” Sherlock breathes. Of course there would always exist a line, drawn deeply and precisely, between their lives before and after The Fall. It was ridiculous to think he could rekindle the affection he had only recently diagnosed as love. 

\---

It was a very ordinary morning. Sherlock woke to the gentle patter of lazy raindrops and the familiar smell of tea and toast with jam. Sherlock swung open his door and peered out to catch a glimpse of John in his morning routine. These moments were the ones he craved the most in hiding. These little capsules of ordinary life, which in relation to anyone else would seem dull but with John appeared a gift.  
Sherlock crept into the kitchen. A firm knock at the door and John was disturbed from his seat, holding his newspaper with one hand and tea with the other as he walked to the door.  
A very worn Lestrade was waiting there, apology and a late night written across his face, and he wandered into the room.  
“Sorry to bother you John, it’s just I couldn’t- oh Sherlock! It is really that hard to just pick up your ph-“  
Lestrade was interrupted by the sound of breaking china, with the shattered mug on the floor and an equally as shattered John standing over it. He looked deathly pale, with wide eyes and rigid body.  
“You can see him, too?” He whispered.


End file.
